


you can see it with the lights out

by philindas



Series: maybe he's just a man, who means the universe to you [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was sitting in the middle of a crowded basketball arena, surrounded by half-naked, sweaty men with letters painted in red, white, and blue with hot dogs in one hand and beer in the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can see it with the lights out

**Author's Note:**

> This is so pointless and dumb but I needed something fluffy and this has been sitting with my fic ideas notes for like, a year now. Grab a toothbrush, because it'll rot your teeth. Title from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift.

She’s not a basketball fan. She’s really not a _sports_ fan, aside from the football party they have on their block every year and the occasional soccer game. But all Phil had asked for for his birthday had been tickets to a Clippers game, and since they were playing in Virginia, she’d gotten what she hoped were good seats based on some research and help from her husband’s best friend, Steve.

They’d barely been married a year, and it still felt so _new_. She liked doing things to make him smile, even if it was something as simple as bringing home bagels from the place he liked down the street, or ironing his shirt the night before he had a big meeting. She’d never really thought of herself as a marriage person before she met Phil, but as soon as she’d fallen for him, she’d known she’d do anything for him.

Hence why she was sitting in the middle of a crowded basketball arena, surrounded by half-naked, sweaty men with letters painted in red, white, and blue with hot dogs in one hand and beer in the other. Phil was in his element; the Clippers jersey he’d owned since their senior year of college already had a ketchup stain on it she’d have a hell of a time trying to get out tomorrow, but he kept looking over at her and grinning, and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

“Are they winning?” she leaned over and asked, practically shouting in his ear so he could hear her over the cheering.

“Yeah babe, they’re winning,” he replies, leaning over to kiss her cheek, squeezing her hip affectionately with the hand not holding his beer. She smiles, slipping her arm around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder as the players chased each other around the court, the ball a small reddish blur between them.

She only knows it’s halftime because of the buzzer and the surge of people that head for the concession stand; Phil leaves her briefly to get them more beer, and when he returns he slips his arm around her, pulling her close as she leaned against his chest, flicking through her phone.

“Peggy sent me video of Jemma walking, look at her go,” Melinda said, angling her phone so he could see as Steve and Peggy’s daughter wobbled precariously, taking the handful of steps to her father before collapsing into his arms, Peggy’s laugh infectious through the phone. “I can’t believe how big she is now, it feels like she was just born yesterday.”

Phil doesn’t comment on the sadness that washes over Melinda; he just presses a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tight against him. “It’s only been a few months. We can’t give up hope yet.”

“I know,” she whispers back, putting her phone back in her pocket and picking up her beer, shaking off the melancholy feeling. “So, how long is halftime? And are they still winning?”

“There’s about another ten minutes,” Phil answers in amusement, fingers tangling gently in her hair as she sits back. “And they’re up by ten, so yes they’re still winning.”

Melinda’s about to ask another question when she notices the people around them are turning to look at them, and she glances around in confusion until she looks at one of the giant screens above the court and notices that they’re on the screen. “A kiss cam? _Really?_ ”

“It is a sporting event, Lin,” Phil replies in amusement, leaning over. “Come on, make it a good one.”

Melinda rolls her eyes, lips parted in a laugh before she leans in, pressing her lips to his as another laugh bubbles inside of her, causing her to shake her head as they part. Her cheeks are pink and eyes alight, and Phil leans in, kissing her again even though the camera has long since moved away from them.

“Thanks for coming with me even though you hate basketball,” he murmured, thumb brushing over her cheek as she leaned into him, forehead pressed to his. “I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispered back, finding his hand and entwining their fingers, squeezing. “I love you, Phil.”

He kissed her again, smiling when her lips curled upwards against his, another laugh escaping her before she spoke, prompting a low groan from him.

“We are totally going to that art museum for my birthday now.”


End file.
